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Teridax folded his arms and coldly regarded his brother, Mutran, so soon back from his mission. There was something amiss in the scientist’s behaviour. He refused to be seated and instead chose to float restlessly around the room, picking up objects and flinging them aside once done inspecting. Had it been anyone else, they might have been a pile of dust at this point. As it was, Mutran had information that Teridax wanted.

“Tren Krom,” he said loudly. “What did you find out about him?”

At the name of the beast, Mutran’s head swivelled and a manic glint twisted the otherwise cold eyes beneath his Kanohi. “Look at my memory,” the scientist chuckled.

“What?”

“That’s what it said, that Tren Krom, when it turned me into a chronicler. Oh, I did as you wished, my brother and I’ve seen much, so much. So much more than you could ever have asked of me!”

For a moment, Teridax was taken aback by his underling’s behaviour. It was so erratic but filled with a passion that enticed his curiosity. “Go on,” he demanded as he settled back into his chair. “Tell me what happened when you met Tren Krom.”

“Oh, Tren Krom. Hahaha! Yes! Tren Krom! I went! I did as you asked! I went to negotiate with him and I found him! He was a strange creature, all crimson slime and tentacles and eyes that darted this way and that. I almost mistook him for an old experiment! But I didn’t! Instead I told him of the Brotherhood and he silenced me. He said….He said he could take all the necessary information from me without me even needing to talk. I just stood and waited and all of a sudden, I heard this piercing wail and only realised moments later that it was my own. I was crumbling to the floor and clutching my head as it slithered all snake-like into my head!

“’Look at my memory’, the beast cried, but it needn’t have bothered because I was already forcing my way inside. And just like that a door opened in its mind and all the horrors of the universe flooded out to meet me.

“I screamed! Oh, but I didn’t scream, my brother, I didn’t just scream! I wriggled and squiggled and I writhed and thrived and I fought and I sought, oh, I sought, I sought, I sought for salvation! But salvation never came because salvation will not emerge to coil its burning wings around me and shield me from the blinding horrors of existence! I was so alone, so cold and so desolate but at the same time everything was with me.

“I wish you could have been there, I wish you could have seen the things that I saw. My mind, my mind was so open, like a book, like a wound and all the bacteria of knowledge flooded inside! It corrupted me, it twisted me and I was reborn! I saw things! I saw the birth of the universe itself! I saw the fire that ignited the heart of life! I kissed the sun and I danced amongst the stars. Mata Nui was born under my watchful eye in that moment!

“Everything became clear to me now. For the first time in my life, I finally understood. I knew, I knew the boundaries of our universe. I knew our limits, an answer that thousands and thousands of years of delicate research could not provide. I found the walls. And I discovered how to break them down.

“Why do you look at me this way, brother? Do you doubt me or do you fear me? I beg you to understand the truth in my words. There is no feeling like this, no sensation and no words that can summarise my madness. No! No, it’s not madness, it’s so much more! It’s purity! I feel so pure! I feel so alive!

“I…I’ve always looked for inspiration! I’ve looked for something to fuel my mind and when that idea hits, the euphoric feeling that burns! There’s nothing like it! And it’s my life now, it’s all I have! I live to create now, all over again!

“Because you didn’t see what I saw! The truth to our universe! The secret that we’ve never been told! That the suns are fake! That the sky is an illusion! That our lives are not our own! Because Mata Nui is not our creator or our deity! Mata Nui is our home!”

A lone Matoran wandered through the jungles of Le-Wahi. He had come to be known as the Chronicler, and he had gotten lost on his way to the jungle village. Now, he was desperately searching for a path back to civilization.

Something dropped from the treetops behind him, and he turned to spot Lewa, the Toa of Air.

“Who be ground-walking this far from bright Le-Koro?” Lewa wondered.

“I’m the Chronicler,” the Matoran answered. “And I’m sort of lost.”

“Chronicler, ‘eh,” Lewa said. “I’ve tale-heard of you from my fellow Toa. Well, I was on my way to quick-spot a Le-Matoran, but you’ll do in a pinch. I need your fast-help.”

“Certainly, Toa,” the Chronicler said. “But what can I do?”

“I am look-seeking a Kanohi Ruru in the den of Graalok the Ash Bear,” Lewa explained. “We two be good buddy-friends, but she not-know that yet, and protects den very well. She out hunting deep-wood, but I could use Matoran to warn-call of her return.”

“So, you want me to be a lookout?” the Chronicler asked, struggling to follow the Toa’s slang.

“Much-yes!” Lewa exclaimed. He picked up the Matoran, and jumped into the trees. “Quick, den-cave is in this direction!”

Five minutes later, the two of them arrived at the edge of the hills, and the Chronicler could see a small cave opening. “You stay here and shout-yell if Graalok back-comes,” Lewa said, and he ducked into the cave.

The Chronicler settled into position and looked out into the forest. The jungle was peaceful enough, and he began to wonder why Lewa had even brought him along. But his thoughts were interrupted as he heard a roar, and in the distance he saw the orange outline of the charging Ash Bear.

The Ash Bear was on top of the Matoran before he knew it, and she swung her claw which threatened to tear him to shreds. The Chronicler tried to leap backwards, and although he avoided her first swipe, he tripped and back down. Now the Rahi would get him for sure.

But Graalok’s second attack was thrown back by a gust of wind, and Lewa appeared at the cave’s edge. “Back, beast, or I will blow-blast you with high-winds!” he said.

Graalok merely roared again and prepared for another charge. Lewa looked unsure about his chances, so he said, “Time for plan-change!” He grabbed the Matoran and yanked him into the cave. Before the Ash Bear could follow, Lewa struck the walls with his hatchet and caused a cave in.

The Chronicler blinks as the rocks ceased rumbling, but now he was surrounded by complete darkness. “We’re trapped, aren’t we,” he said.

“Not-fear, for there is exit-tunnel in back,” Lewa said. “I believe it will out-lead us to open air.”

“But how will we find it in here when we can’t see a thing?” the Chronicler asked.

“I have mask that will ever-help with that,” Lewa said, and he donned his noble Kanohi Ruru, the mask of night vision. “I can well-see in shadows with this, and I’ll lead to escape-hole!”

After a minute of walking through darkness, the Toa and Matoran reached the end of the tunnel and emerged in daylight. Lewa grinned, and summoned back his original Miru Kanohi. “Well, that fun-time adventure, Chronicler. Next time you’re in high-fly Le-Koro, you can speak-tell of our adventure.”

He was cut off by another roar, and Graalok appeared over the hill. She leapt forward and swiped her paw, throwing the Toa into a nearby swamp. The Chronicler drew a bamboo disc and prepared to defend himself, but now the Ash Bear seemed less aggressive. With a grunt, she slipped in through the tunnel they had left and returned to her den.

“What was that about?” the Chronicler wondered.

“Oh, she just angry-mad that I slip-sneaked into her den,” Lewa said, crawling out of the muck of the swamp. “She got in good claw-smack, and for her, that’s ever-good as apology.”

“You’re one crazy Toa to mess with an Ash Bear like that,” the Chronicler said.

Lewa grinned. “Like I said, we be buddy-friends. . . someday.” He looked down as the swamp grime that covered him. “Oh, and perhaps when you story-tell of our adventure, you could out-leave the swamp-mess part.”

[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]An elderly Turaga sat at his desk, [/font]tablet, pen, and ink before him. His white-and-orange armor glinted in the dim light. He dipped his pen in the ink and began to write.

"I've lived a long life and a full life. I actually don't remember most of my life, thanks to the Makuta Teridax. But of the life I do remember-- Oh, such things as I have seen and done."

He set down his pen and gazed out the window at the moon rising over the ocean. Thousands of memories floated behind his eyes. He lightly touched the upper portion of his Kanohi, the Noble Vahi. After a moment he returned to the tablet.

"Before I pass among the stars, I have decided to create this Chronicle of my life and adventures. Heed, dear reader, within this volume lay many untold tales and once well-hidden secrets. But before I begin, let me give an introduction.

"I once lived on an island paradise we called Mata Nui. From there my people crossed the Silver Sea to reunite with our ancestral home, and before long I was dragged along on a string of other adventures, finally ending up in a strange and marvelous world. It was a place which I had never known existed, and one whom few even now know to exist. A time of great strife was passing over that forgotten land, and it was at this time that I found my destiny. As a Toa I devoted my entire energies to the task of caring for and leading my new people. From there things got even stranger, but I've already said too much on that subject for the time being."

He glanced out the window again, in reflection. So many adventures he had had, and the next would soon begin.

"The world of Spherus Magna has been at peace for many a year now, and I feel that it is the time for a change. My old components are itching to be traveling again, and there are many a younger being keeping watch over Natoro, the city for which I am Head Turaga. I have always had a love for exploration and adventure. Natoro is beautiful, it is true, and there are many here for whom I care, but they will do fine without me. Indeed, I have already explored much of Spherus Magna and encountered many beings, old and new, friendly and not-so-friendly. Now it is time for me to move on to the next chapter."

He paused again. His people, along with many hundreds of Spherus Magna's best engineers, had been hard at work for the last few months, working on a major new project.

"You see, I have recently discovered an old volume, one ancient in origin. Indeed, it seems that this tale is older than the Matoran Universe itself. It tells the tale of a brave band who, under the orders of those Ancients, the Element Lords, took command of a machine which the Elementals had invented, and set off among the stars themselves. There they encountered entire new worlds and great perils, worlds of paradise and worlds kept under iron fist. Indeed, they remained on this long quest, and never did stop reaching for that last, unreachable star, as it were.

"This tale has so inspired me that I took it upon myself to reinvent this old machine, the likes of which had never been seen or heard of before besides from the tale itself, so far as I am aware. The city of Natoro agreed with me, and indeed, so did many a city among the broad expanse of the United Cities of S.M., that in this time of long-lasting peace this oppurtunity to forge new frontiers and expand horizons will be more than worth it. They have agreed with me, and I am overjoyed that they have also agreed to let me take part in this mission myself. I shall be the Chronicler, a title which pleases me to no end. My people have been hard at work, and in just a few short weeks the new Star Explorer shall be complete.

"I am overjoyed at this new prospect. I could hope for nothing preferable before I pass into those realms of which only Mata Nui knows for sure. But now, dear reader, before this new chapter begins, let me consign to you these tales of the past. If you are brave, then press on into the depths."

Member Name: BaltarcTheme: The ChroniclerWord Count: 648Story: "Preserving the Past"

Hey, uh. I don’t have much time to talk, so I guess I’d better make the most of it. Oh, yeah. Guess I’d better introduce myself, sorry. Name’s Greil. Not a Toa, no – I look like one, yeah, but I come from a species native to the Southern Islands. Which isn’t really that important, I guess. What matters more is what I do; I’m a… historian, I guess you’d say. The Matoran call me a Chronicler, or at least most of them do. I’ve been a lot of places, seen a lot of things. All of it’s recorded in that book over there, or at least the parts that aren’t in that one. Or any of those in that stack. Or… yeah, you get the idea.

That’s not really what I’m trying to tell you about, though. Yeah, adventures are cool. Watching history unfold before your eyes is something that never gets. But, see, it’s all there. All in those books. Feel free to read about any of it, if you like. Just bear with me for a few minutes here, all right?

See, as you can probably tell, I’ve got a thing for the past. Recording it, documenting it. Crafting a chronicle of our existence so the deeds we do won’t be forgotten. Like, uh… hang on a second, let me just… Yeah, here it is. Volume Six, chapter forty-three – “The Deeds of Toa Hydrac.” His exploits were the stuff of legends while he was alive. Now, though? You ask the people of his village about him, and all they have is vague recollections of a Bo-Toa who protected the island a while back, “or something like that.” A piece of the past lost. Events that may as well not have happened for all the thought they’re given. See how fragile the past is? The mere passage of time destroys it, melts it from our memory.

So yeah. That’s what I do. Preserve the past. Guard it, protect it. If I don’t, it’ll just vanish, and we’ll never recover it.

Wait, wait, I’m not done. ‘Cause, see, that’s not all there is to the past. Tell me – what’s the point of preserving it, huh? Why do we try to remember everything that happened before now? To honor the heroic deeds of those who came before us? Just for completeness, to have a full record?

Both of those have some merit, yeah. That’s what I had in mind when I set out on this quest, this endless, lifelong journey to record what’s happened in this world we call our home. But see, there’s something else that I realized.

Ultimately, the past is gone.

I mean, think about that, really think about it for a minute.

The past means a lot of things to a lot of people. Some recall the deeds of their heroes, wishing they could someday mirror such feats. But the thing is, you’ve got your own life to live – you can’t live it if you focus on the past.

Many live in regret of the decisions they’ve made, wishing they had done things differently. Wishing things had turned out better. But the things you’ve done – they’re gone! Because they’re in the past. When it comes down to it, living in regret doesn’t really make sense at all, does it? ‘Cause really, since you can’t change the choices you’ve made, what’s left to do but go out there and make better ones, yeah?

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: It’s good to remember the past, but don’t let it distract you from the present.

Well, uh. Looks like that’s all the time I’ve got. Like I said, feel free to check out those books. Or maybe you could go out there and live your life. I don’t really mind either way; I’ve got some things to take care of…

[font="arial, sans-serif;"] We left early in the morning from the Coliseum to the northernmost of the sea gates that surrounded Metru Nui. For a very long time, they had been open to allow trade ships and refugees from less stable lands in. However, Turaga Dume has ordered they all be closed, as a threat against our city has been discovered. This is the last gate to close.[/font]

[font="arial, sans-serif;"] I travel with Toa Sesho, Toa of Psionics, and Toa Hetilus, Toa of Iron. I do not know why two Toa are required for a task as menial as closing gates; I, or any Matoran, could easily operate the controls alone, but Turaga Dume knows what is best. We can only hope that he will[/font]

[font="arial, sans-serif;"] Kodan put down his log book as the boat came to a stop. The three passengers disembarked and began for the machinery that closed a large door over the gate, and did so without word. As they finished, a shadowy figure emerged from the depths of the sea. He performed his task as silently as he did efficiently. Toa Hetilus’s Kanohi Kakama was knocked into the sea during the battle, and Kodan’s log entry was never completed.[/font]

0

"You are an absolute in these uncertain times. Your past is forgotten, and yourfuture is an empty book. You must find your own destiny, my brave adventurer."-- Turaga Nokama

If you're reading this then I'm either dead, or declared dead. I don't see myself dying or disappearing from Metru Nui anytime soon, but then again, being Chronicler isn't exactly low-risk,and there are a few things I should see to. This is one of them.

So, first of all, I just want to say you're a good friend. (Yes, it's cliched. Give the dead guy a break, all right?) True, you annoyed me the first time we met. I believe your exact words to me were, "Your job is to wander all over the island and be given a front-row seat to anything exciting? How did you find an excuse to slack off regular work for this?" I did not approve of the fact that you saw my dangerous and laborious position as "an excuse to slack off" and not “regular work.”

But after maybe the third time I ran into you around the city (since we are both wanderers attracted to excitement like lava eels to heat) I realized you didn't mean to be offensive. You just honestly didn't understand why I should get a free pass to do all the things you were forcibly restrained for doing. (Nor have you ever accepted the obvious differences.)

But we could hardly help being acquaintances, since (as noted above) we tend to wind up in the same places. (Jaller behind you, of course. You are undeservedly lucky to have a best friend who will try that hard to stop you from being an idiot.) And, of course, you're the prime witness to (if not cause of) over half the noteworthy things I do miss, meaning I have to interview you about them. And then you started criticizing my writing style, which meant that you had to try it yourself, so Jaller and I could laugh at you instead.

Still, though, you absolutely refuse to admit my job as Chronicler involves any effort or unpleasantness, or, in fact, that it qualifies as a "job" at all. This leads me to the second thing I need to say: If you think it's so easy, do it yourself. No, really.

I'm naming you as my choice for the next Chronicler....

Having paused to allow you to recover from your shock, I will now explain my reasoning. (Consider this a rehearsal for the recommendation letter I have to write Turaga Dume.)Yes, you're reckless, but a certain amount of recklessness is necessary in a Chronicler. Yes, everyone says you're irresponsible, but they're judging that by how well you do at a job you are emphatically not suited for. (If you fall behind in any of your Chronicler duties even once, I will take that as your concession that it is at least as valid a job as mask-making or anything else.) And yes, you can be an impetuous, thoughtless, trouble-seeking idiot, to a degree not beneficial in anyone but...

but...

...well, nobody's perfect, are they? And I think your various assets outweigh this defect.

What do I consider assets, you ask? You love travel and excitement of all kinds, even more than I do. (Yes, I enjoy it. That doesn't mean it's not a real job, it's just work I like - oxymoronic as I know that seems to you.) You're definitely not a coward. Though you have a pretty realistic worldview, you still believe in heroes and heroism. I'm not having some cynic like Onewa stealing my job.

And, though I hate to admit it, you're really not a half-bad writer.

So there you have it. In the highly hypothetical event of my death or extended disappearance you will become Chronicler. If you can't, I'd probably accept Kopeke from Ko-Metru (though I'm not going to explain that here too) but you're my first choice.

Your friend,

Kodan the Chronicler

Toa Takanuva stared at the letter before him, uncertain whether to laugh or to cry. When he and Hahli Mahri had been sent to search their fellow Chronicler's former home for important writings, he had not expected to find a letter from along-lost and now unknown friend. Nor had he expected the discovery that he had been recommended for the position of Chronicler, a thousand years and a universe away from his appointment.

He wondered if the formal recommendation was nearby, but did not search for it. Instead he called to his fellow Toa.

"Hey, Hahli. You know how the Turaga are trying to choose a new Chronicler - do you know Kopeke?"

[font="arial;"]I have never been one to do much speaking. I never had to. I let others talk their throats hoarse if they wanted. I let them discharge their views, right or wrong, whether I agreed or not, to their hearts' contents. Words never solved anything. I listened when I thought it was worth while, but what good would it have been to answer? I stood by and did what I had to do.[/font]

[font="arial;"]For many years it was my job to listen and observe. It wasn't my own story I was chronicling. It was the story of the universe. I was just watching. That was my duty and I stuck to it. Words are useless, idle things. Now, so am I.[/font]

[font="arial;"]The time of my usefulness is past. My destiny as a chronicler was fulfilled when I became a Toa. During those centuries I spoke even less. I did my duty and I wasted no time talking. My deeds have passed into legend alongside the feats of the many great heroes in our history. Still I was only an observer. Only I had become an observer of my own destiny.[/font]

[font="arial;"]That was a long time ago. We live in more peaceable times now. The world has little use for Toa, and even less for quiet Turaga. My destiny is over. My chronicles are written.[/font]

[font="arial;"]I spend my days now in tranquil seclusion. There is not much here for me to observe. Only memories. I have lost my purpose. I am now useless, idle.[/font]

[font="arial;"]In losing my purpose I have found it.[/font]

[font="arial;"]Idleness need not be useless if it is worthily devoted. If words are worthless, if I am idle, let us unite and find a destiny for us both.[/font]

[font="arial;"]Now I have a new gift to give the universe. My time has been well spent observing our world. I have done much, and seen more. I may have nothing tot tell that has not been told, but that does not mean my mind is empty.[/font]

[font="arial;"]In an idle chair, with words and stylus, I will create new legends.[/font]

[font="arial;"]For the first time I open my mouth to speak. After millennia of silence, I have a lot to say.[/font]

Edited by The Novelist Called Nuile, Jul 01 2013 - 12:00 AM.

0

When I know I can't live without a pen and paper, when I know writing is as necessary to me as breathing . . .

Four skips before the pebble finally sank into the ocean. The Toa responded by throwing another stone, watching it cut through the water in a straight line. This one managed three skips. In frustration the Toa released a gust of air with the next pebble, accomplishing only the drowning of the pebble.

Zero, just like me.

This latest war between the Toa and the Glatorian had been just as bloody as the previous three; even now the Toa could only take out his frustrations on rocks and lakes. Everything had become so terrible, so fast. For a short while there had been some semblance of peace and harmony after Mata Nui had died. This was thanks in large part to the Mata and the Glatorian Mata Nui had befriended. Then the horror crept in as a devastating creature had been unleashed upon the Toa.

Three skips.

The Toa of Air still remembered those days, despite being a rookie Toa at the time. One by one the Toa heroes of old fell, alongside Mata Nui’s friends who attempted to help the Toa. It wasn’t long before only the Mata and a handful of Toa were left alive. The Toa often felt guilty for surviving.

Two skips.

Eventually Tahu and the Mata set out, hoping to rid the land of this scourge. Though they accomplished their task, they never returned. The news that their greatest heroes had been wiped out devastated all of the surviving Matoran and Toa, but soon their despair became hatred when they realized the monster never targeted a single Glatorian.

One skip.

Of course the Glatorian were just as angry at the loss of many of the heroes they had sent to aid the Toa. They blamed the Toa, for the arrival of this beast and so they too sought revenge. That was when all Karz broke loose.

Zero skips.

A gust of wind managed to fling sand into the Toa’s face causing him to drop the pebble. The sand only gave the Toa of yet another reason to hate this place. The small band of Toa accompanying him didn’t even have the luxury of being assigned to one of the more temperate climates. However even that wasn’t always the best option, the Jungles just meant more chances of an ambush. Everything about this place was terrible.

This time the Toa kicked the pebble, silently watching as it arced into the air. The pebble somehow managed six skips leaving the Toa swearing at fate for being such a cruel mistress. Why would she aid him when he did something wrong? Picking up another pebble he let it fly.

Eight skips.

Perhaps fate wasn’t always so cruel, but it certainly hadn’t been kind in the past few hundred years. He still remembered how wide-eyed the Toa had gone into the war, only to have their idealistic hopes of a bloodless war vanquished. On Spherus Magna it was kill or be killed.

Seven skips.

He still remembered his first kill. It had been a terrible experience that still shook his very core. Toa don’t kill. That had been the fundamental rule, the one driven into him since his early days as a Matoran, however on Spherus Magna none of that mattered.

Six skips.

Unfortunately the pain of killing only faded as time went by. Soon all of the Toa were laying waste to legion of Glatorian every day, and yet they kept losing. For every ten Glatorian they killed by day, the Glatorian killed fifteen of them at night.

Five skips.

His brothers and sisters hadn’t been spared from this fate either. One by one each Toa of his former team perished. Eventually only he was left. He had nothing but sympathy for the Chronicler. His own memories weighed so deeply upon his soul, he couldn’t imagine the pain of a Chronicler who had to deal with everyone’s memories.

Four skips.

“Brother!” A voice rang out from across the camp, alerting the Toa of Air. “The Glatorian are attacking!”

Three skips.

The news only served to further ruin the Toa’s mood as he lethargically grabbed another rock. However this one was different from the others, it was covered in blood. Picking it up he let it fly out towards the enemy.

Two lives.

However this time things it was his turn and so he could only resign his head as the counter attack was launched his way.

You want to be a Chronicler? You can’t just walk up, tell the Turaga you want to be a Chronicler, and get your badge just like that. For one, you go to the Turaga and ask for an application form, and secondly you need to follow certain qualifications. Luckily, we’re here to help! Here’s a list of 17 simple steps for any aspiring Chronicler-to-be.

1. Be a Matoran. Toa, Turaga, Agori, Glatorian, Skakdi, Vortixx, Makuta, Visorak, Takea, Gadunka, Great Spirits, Great Beings, and whatever Sidorak’s species are called cannot apply. No, this is not species-ism in the slightest. It’s a story requirement. You think Takua kept his position after he became a Toa? Nope, he got ousted ASAP and Hahli took his place. And she got ousted when she became a Toa. In short, DON’T BE ANYTHING OTHER THAN A MATORAN.

2. Be stupidly courageous, stupidly adventurous, and stupidly stupid. Do stuff that would make any daredevil cringe. I mean, come on, who wants a Chronicler that just sits down and writes? Go out and get yourself blasted into amnesiac status because of a few glowy stones. Go and chase a certain weird-looking rock even though you’re going to die unless a random Toa appears out of nowhere.

3. Give up and just go mad. It would help a ton. Trust me.

4. Bend the truth. No one wants to hear about how a random Le-Matoran ate a Bula Berry. That Le-Matoran did NOT eat a Bula Berry. He ate a whole bushel of EXPLOSIVE Bula Berries, while swinging on a vine, while fighting flying Takea mutations, while staring into Makuta’s eyes, without his mask, Gukko birds chasing him, all before he lets go of the vine, flips in the air, and hijacks one of the birds to engage in a daring dogfight. Now THAT’S a story. Did it happen? Yes it did.

5. Look for loopholes. The above story happened…in my mind. There.

6. Never go into specifics. They’ll be the death of you. I’m not even exaggerating.

7. Exaggerate. This is different from bending the truth. Bending the truth is adding details. Exaggerating is amplifying them. The Gukko Birds in the above story were poised to self-destruct if the Le-Matoran even touched them, but he did and he lived. That’s exaggeration.

8. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS italicize and/OR capitalize EVERYTHING you SAY. IT ADDS A TON of emphasis and makes STORIES so much MORE INTERESTING. WE want INTERESTING NOT BORING. ALSO BREAK YOUR CAPS LOCK SO IT’S ALWAYS ON. IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE SCREAMING THEN. WE LOVE SCREAMING.

9. TABLET AND CHISEL ONLY. PENS ARE EVIL AND WERE THE REASON ELIMINATOR KILLED KODAN. HE USED A PEN FOR A STORY SO HE DIED. ALTHOUGH HE RODE A VINE WHILE EATING A BUSHEL OF EXPLOSIVE BULA BERRIES. BUT THEY EXPLODED BECAUSE OF ELIMINATOR. DON'T MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE HE DID.

11. GET INTO TROUBLE WITH YOUR LOCAL TURAGA. PUT A DISK LAUNCHER AGAINST HIS HEAD OR SOMETHING. OR BURN DOWN A VILLAGE. TELL EVERYONE THAT THIS IS A DREAM AND MAKE THEM WONDER WHOSE IT IS AND IF THEY’RE ENJOYING IT. ALSO EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS.

The Chronicler walked slowly, a massive pack on his back. He was Po-Matoran, and well accustomed to such a load. he had been gone a long time, nearly a year, off beyond the mountains. But now he had come back, to share the treasures that he had won, each story painstakingly etched in solid stone.

Word spread among the villagers that the Chronicler was coming. there would be much celebration after the sun set, culminating in the Chronicler telling a story. The story would not be long, and would not be followed by another. But it had always been something intriguing, beautiful, precious. And the Chronicler had a way of speaking, of painting a picture and evoking emotions that was legendary.

Then he would give his load of tablets to the village elder for safekeeping, and the elder would give him blank tablets in return.

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: July 2nd, 11:59PM PST.[/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Note: The deadlines are now midnight PST (3am EST), giving you three more hours.[/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Edit: The Chronicler Polls have been posted! [/color][/font][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Still time to vote in the Bones and Dark Hunt polls as well.[/color][/font]

Just yesterday, I was a handsome Av-Matoran. Now, I'm a monster. A small, green and black Matoran thought as he sat down in his cave. What will I do now? Both sides hate me. All I can do is sit here and fight my own battles.

How Kranos would love to pick up his sword and stab this ghost. But that was the evil talking.

Five weeks ago, the Makuta began their assault on Karda Nui. Zek, Kranos, Kirop, Radiak, and Gavla had all been struck by Shadow Leaches, creatures that sucked the light out of you, leaving nothing but a shell full of darkness, hate, and evil. Zek had rolled off of a cliff in his agony and fallen at least forty-thousand feet into the swamps below, where the beasts that dwell down there would feast on his flesh.

Kranos had ripped the leach off of his face before he lost his mind. At least, not all of his mind. Kranos' body had changed, but his mind was in a state where a perpetual conflict existed. A battle between good and evil; light and darkness. How easy it would be to let the evil take over, but Kranos would not allow that to happen. He would fight to find the power to keep the darkness at bay until he could find a cure.

"You're right, misfit. You can't kill him. But I can kill you." The Makuta said as he dropped from the cave ceiling. "This will be extremely fun. But I'll give you one last chance to side with the Makuta."

"Why would I do that after what you did to me?" Kranos said, drawing his sword.

'What I did to you? I made you stronger, faster, deadlier. I made you perfect." The Makuta sneered.

It was a fierce battle between Kranos and the Makuta. Kranos would go in for a low blow to the Makuta's legs, but the Makuta parried easily. The batle raged on and on for half an hour, twisting and turning. Both sides determined to win. But in the end, with a sword though his thigh, Kranos fell.

"Farewell, Kranos. My work here is done." The Makuta said as he flew away.

White was in the edges of Kranos' eyes, he knew that his time had come. Thank you, Makuta. Kranos said, he didn't even think that he would ever say those words. But the Makuta had ended his suffering and helped Kranos find the power to follow the light. As Kranos lay still on the cold, hard ground, he closed his eyes and greeted Zek on the edges of reality.

I guess that throws me in with everyone else: only I’m a little more adventurous and successful than the rest. The others wait around for Destiny, play the good citizen and worship their Toa.

Me? I don’t worship my Toa. I kill him. Toa are easy to kill, so despicably easy. They walk around in their bright armor with those impractical Toa Tools and their fancy Great Kanohi, basking in the adoration of the crowds. Have you ever seen it? Ever felt like vomiting at their pride?

Because that’s all a Toa is. A buffoon who plays a demigod to us powerless shrimps. They don’t have to scrape about to survive, many don’t even get into a real battle their entire course. Or maybe once one presents itself they decide that their ‘Destiny’ is complete and that they should send out some innocent new Toa to get slaughtered.

They tell me I’m too cynical about it: that my almost fanatical hatred of Toa makes me worse than the heroes themselves. I never answer them, I just give a sneer. Because I don’t care, and because my accusers are usually too stupid to even tell me what a Toa is.

Toa are easy to kill. Anyone who studies the Toa dark Hunter war can tell you how lousy a fighting force they are. They want their foe to fight fair, they can’t even fathom them acting otherwise. A swift assassination they can never handle.

A good knife is all I need, and I have it. Short little me, a flimsy Ta-Matoran. Tonight I’m going to be a Toa.

I don’t need an alibi story. This village is never going to see me again after tonight. Unless I decide to torch the place to test my power. That might be fun.

I leave my house in the early morning, before anyone can notice me. A note on my door to tell anyone who passes that I’ve gone hunting. I don’t think I would have planned it like this but for the fact that this is the last day of my Toa’s Destiny. Tomorrow he is a Turaga. Already the Toa Stone is prepared. I could leave him as a Turaga. But I won't.

His house is bigger than the rest, but I force open a back window as easily as in any other house. The inside is comfortably furnished, better than most in the village.

I’ll definitely torch this.

There’s not much to do, so I hide myself away comfortably and wait, dagger in hand. It’s really no different than hunting.

Hours pass my half opened eyes, and it’s almost evening before I hear the door opening. My eyes are certainly wide open now as I watch the Toa walk in, his black armor making him a dark figure in the waning light. He throws his short spear down by the door. Clearly very tired. Good. He comes closer.

Killing him isn’t enough.

I leap out in perfect timing, stabbing him deep in his leg. He gasps, falling to the ground even as I climb on top of him, stabbing him again. I let him see me for a moment as I raise my blade up, dripping with his blood. His eyes show fear and I drink it it.

Then my knife puts out his heartlight. I search him, and give a soft shout of triumph as I grasp the black stone.

As per your request, I'm sending you updates with regard to the Metru Nui mass transportation system you have requested me to design. I've spent the last several weeks contemplating various methods. I've decided that ground based transportation will not do-- the Metrus are far too varied in terrain. Since Matoran are made of metallic components, I've figured we can use that combined with an electromagnetic field can propel ourselves along tracks. I've done small scale testing that this does work. Granted my small scale designs would result in Matoran death and island wide blackouts if I took them to large scale, but I'm still working on it. I move on to large scale modeling next week.

-Your humble servant, Tuuri.

Turaga Dume,

Large scale modeling has proved extremely unsuccessful. My current setup consist of three rings, each containing six electromagnets. The only thing I managed to do was almost start a fire-- too much power is required for the electromagnets. You suggested in your reply that I abandon my ring transportation and instead design new hovercraft. I respectfully disagree that this is more efficient. They will keep Matoran waiting, and they will be slower than my rings. I also feel that this method provides more opportunities for scientific breakthroughs. Anyway, I'm reducing the number of electromagnets to draw less power. I hope it works.

Most Noble Turaga Dume,

With all due respect, Turaga, I'm not sure why you're so opposed to invention. Without dedicated craftsman we wouldn't have such a luxurious, beautiful city to reside in. Through innovation we can open up doors for future projects. If my system works we can create an entirely new industry! Doesn't that sound better for the city than relying on upgraded existing technology? I apologize if I'm out of line, but I hope I can convince you to let me keep trying the project. Anyway, I've finished constructing the new electromagnets and will test shortly. I will update you soon.

Turaga Dume,

Reducing the number of electromagnets did indeed draw less power, but it created a much less stable field. Any object I put into the rings has a good chance of flying out, which means Matoran deaths. On a tangent, I've also been thinking about what you said, about innovation versus resourcefulness. I confess I didn't think about the benefits of boosting existing industries rather thank creating new ones, and I concede that you have a point. I'm honestly not sure what to do here. In the meantime, I'm going to investigate the potential for hovercraft I have a meeting with a Protodermis Engineer in Ga-Metru next week and she'll be sure to have some ideas of what materials work best.

Turaga,

When touring the Ga-Metru refineries I was introduced to purified liquid protodermis. I think I may have solved my problem! My next letter will not come for a while, but when it does it will either have designs for rings or hovercraft!

Turaga!

I solved the issue! Turns out that pure protodermis has similar properties to metals, as does the substance in liquid form. I won't confuse you with details, but basically by using four electromagnets I was able to create a field between two rings that carried along the protodermis, acting as a barrier, stabilizing the previously unsafe field. With your permission I'd like to build a full scale test model at the Le-Metru racetrack. I will use myself as a test subject.

Turaga Dume,

Thank you for coming yesterday to oversee the full scale test! I've enclosed the full report of how I felt while riding the chute system, but the important part is that I think this will be an easy system for Matoran to use. With your permission, I will present my idea to formally launch the project at the committee meeting next week.

Tuuri,

You have accomplished much over the past year, and you have a lot to be proud of! Your report was thorough, and I have no doubt the committees will be satisfied and will approve the project. I heard that Lhikan even took a test run through the test chute and found it an enjoyable experience. I foresee your system greatly improving communication amongst our great city, and I hope that you will continue to use your creativity to better Metru-Nui. For finding the power to persevere beyonds failures and doubts (of even myself!) you have my utmost respect and appreciation.

[font="'times new roman';"]“It was as if someone had taken rage and evil and given those qualities a body to walk around in.[/font]” – Legacy of Evil

[font="'times new roman';"]Power . . .[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Some work their whole lives for it. Some never find it.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Some hunger for it. Some lust after it.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I need it. I was destined for it.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I was shaped and prepared all my life for it. I am only alive because I it is my destiny to become it. Power and I are as one. We are meant to be.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Power . . .[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]It gives life. It takes it. It moves mountains or it destroys them. It controls the world.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Someday, so will I.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I knew what power was since before I can remember. I was once a slave, domineered like all the rest of the lowlife, mortified and humiliated and beat into raw, submissive fear. Every slave knows the existence of power; it is what oppresses them, it is what forces them to their work each day. It is the force they fear. But from the first I recognized power for what it truly is.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Strength. The strength I needed to become more than I was. I realized power has always been what I need.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I fought for it. I worked and slaved for it. Every day in the mine I worked harder and grew stronger. Because, oh yes, power only comes to those who work for it. And I hunted it.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I fought. I killed as many slavedriver as I could get my hands on. If a slave got in my way I would kill him, too. If a Stone Rat crawled by under my feet, I crushed it beneath my heel. That’s strength. That’s power.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I was punished—oh! Karzahni! was I punished! I was lashed, and beaten, and starved, and chained, and they worked me harder than ever. Every punishment imaginable, and unimaginable, was inflicted on me in those days. But I never gave up. I always fought back. That’s power.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]The other slaves began to fear me. Even the slavedrivers feared me. They punished me because they feared my strength and my power. That’s when the Dark Hunters found me, and that’s why they “took me in.”[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]No. I took them in. I took power into my heart and I was never letting it go. I had never tasted true power. I could still do nothing more than dream of it. I wanted more. I needed more.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I trained. I fought. I fought harder every day, and I grew stronger. I gained respect and fear. I only needed one thing more.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Power.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]So I seized it.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I failed.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I will never fail again.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I might have died. I should have died. But I didn’t. I gained more power. That was my destiny. It is my destiny still.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]And now I’ve found it. [/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]From the most unlikely source, I’ve found it. Some fool of a Makuta, Tridax or Teridax or one of them, I don’t care which, left his plans lying around. Pure luck that I stumbled upon them.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]Luck? No. Destiny. This Makuta’s plan may be clever, but that doesn’t make him any less a fool. I was meant to discover his secrets. Power is my destiny. Not his.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I will work for it. I will fight for it. It will be mine.[/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]My precious power . . . it is meant to be mine![/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I am Zaktan![/font]

[font="'times new roman';"]I have found the power I need . . .[/font]

0

When I know I can't live without a pen and paper, when I know writing is as necessary to me as breathing . . .

“Well that guy was a bust, typical,” I groaned to my sole companion, a small hapaka, I had named Winter, based off when we first met, since then he’d always been by my side. Lately we’d been off a journey of sorts to find someone who could help out my village after a terrible drought.

However nothing had been working, all the people we ran across tended to be mercenaries we couldn’t afford to hire. It left me wondering where the brave Toa Heroes of old had vanished to.

Foolishly, I thought this last guy was going to be different, but the Turaga only mumbled some nonsense about the power to save my village resting within. I’d think I’d know if I had any sort of abilities to save my people, thanks for nothing you old hag.

However if that hadn’t been odd enough he’d also thrown an odd blue rock my way, he said something about its power lying deep within, just like my own, and that it would awaken when I was ready. Another load of nonsense, but I figured I might be able to sell it at the very least, perhaps making a quick widget or two off it.

“Hey Winter, what do you think,” I asked the Rahi while rubbing it behind the ears, “Think there’s someplace we can stop by to find some help?” He merely barked in response, but it was comforting none the less, at least I knew he wouldn’t turn his back on someone in need.

That’s when I noticed a small tavern on the edge of the horizon, I figured stopping might be a good idea considering my throat was rather parched. So Winter and I began making our way over there, kicking up dust and sand as we walked across the barren lands. I hoped that this region hadn’t also been badly affected by the drought would have at least a couple drinks available.

Yelling and loud laughter were the first things I heard when I neared the tavern, obviously the people inside were having a good time, I hoped that meant they’d be good people as well. However, the moment I opened the door everyone in the room went dead silent, it was rather unnerving to have all their glares focused on me and Winter. I noticed that in the entire Tavern there wasn’t a single Matoran, just Skakdi and other vile Piraka.

Gulping, I nervously made my way towards the counter, planning for Winter and I to quickly get a drink and then be on our merry way. However the bartender‘s face just exuded obvious displeasure at my presence.

“Um, I’d just like to buy some water for me and my Hapaka?” I asked meekly.

My question was just answered by laughter emanating from the Skakdi sitting next to me, “Hear that boys, the kid wants a drink, doesn’t he realize there’s a drought going ‘round, we ain’t got nothing for useless pieces of trash,” his eyes then darted towards Winter, who had started baring his teeth, the Skakdi merely responded in kind. “Or his pet for that matter.”

Then without warning his clawed hands grabbed my neck and brutally shoved me against the wall. His large teeth then twisted into a sickening grin. “So boy, you know there being a drought and all we just can’t afford to let everyone have what they want now can we. Don’t be so selfish, in fact I don’t think there’s enough water to go around for your pet to have some too.”

I watched in horror as his hand then reached down for gun resting on his hip, I tried to scream out for him to stop, I begged and I pleaded, but he wouldn’t listen. He aimed his gun at Winter and fired.

I screamed, and time suddenly seemed to slow down as large glow came from the stone in my pack. Then a large surge of energy occurred and sent the Skakdi flying off of me. His face contorted in rage and then shock as he laid eyes upon me. Then I noticed my image in the reflection of one of the glasses, only it wasn’t me, in my place stood a brilliant warrior in blue armor. I felt my Kakama working and dashed off towards Winter, healing the poor Rahi with my new found powers.

Then my eyes turned back towards the Skakdi, “Guess what buddy, the drinks are on me.”

“There’s really nothing better than being under constant threat of death.”

“…”

“Indeed, this is a fine morning for the suicidal. Why, if I wasn’t having so much fun, I would violently eviscerate myself!”

Yrena tried her best to ignore her companion, but her patience was running out. In addition to making her even more nervous than she already was, Wofke wasn’t being particularly quiet (Not that he ever was…), and the danger of being heard was not negligible.

“Please be quiet. You’ll get both of us killed!”

“Gosh, I sure hope so. This wait itself is just killing me.”

“Shut up! Someone will hear you, and we really will get killed.”

“Oh darn, I guess I’m not being loud enough HEY PEoporghghg”

“Why would you do that?! Do you really want to die?!”

“Of course I do! After all, I let you of all people drag me here!”

Yrena let go of him. He was being difficult and selfish, and he knew it.

“Just…you know just how important this is.”

“Yeeees! Finding the artifacts is so important enough that the Turaga thought it apt to offer two healthy Matoran sacrifices to the Great Spirit.”

“This wasn’t their choice, and you know it. Toa Nuroka chose us.”

“Doesn’t matter. So long as we still get to die, I’m fine.”

Yrena sighed. Wofke was being terrible, but she knew it wasn’t fair to blame him for panicking. For as long as they’d known each other, he never once had been interested in heroics. It had always been her who had been most involved in the affairs of the Toa. She was fascinated, and longed for nothing more than to be one.

Wofke had been a simple sculptor. His life began and ended with his work in his workshop. He and Yrena were lifelong friends, but their interests were completely dissimilar.

When Toa Nuroka disappeared and the Turaga revealed that the two of them were Destined to be the next Toa, Yrena saw all of her dreams fulfilled. Wofke, in turn, saw his peaceful life fall to pieces.

His life, as far as he was concerned, was already over. Could he really want to die? Yrena wouldn’t accept that.

Unfortunately for them both, the Toa Stones required for their conversion had been stolen and hidden away when the Toa vanished. To receive their future power, they first had to find it.

As they found themselves entering the Dark Hunter-infested canyon, it was only natural that their emotions would be on edge. But Wofke was practically delirious.

“Say, dear friend, what says the map? The sooner we can find ourselves in as many little pieces as possible, the better.”

Yrena had been given a special stone map crafted to detect Nuroka’s energies even if he was gone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t overwhelmingly accurate.

“As far as I can see, we’re close. They should be somewhere in that general direction,” she said, pointing. “But chances are high they’ll be hidden and closely guarded. We can’t just walk in”

“I don’t see any guards. I better go look for some in that general direction”

As he ran rashly into the cave where the Toa Stones were located, Yrena tried to call him back, but decided it was futile. She ran to follow him and found him

standing alone, the surrounding area devoid of any sign of life.

“Well, bummer. It doesn’t look like anyone is here to chop off our little Matoran heads. That is one disappointment I could have done without.

“Wofke, you’re a moron…but it seems like this was the best opportunity we could have hoped for. Come on, help me look.”

Then she noticed him already holding the two stones on his hands, looking at them as if mesmerized.

“How odd…they were just barely buried. What a poor digging job.”

“You found them! Wofke, this is great. Now we can leave this all behind!”

He was looking hard at his stone, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t want to die either, Wofke.”

“That’s good.”

“I don’t want to die,” she repeated, pointing at a mound of sand he now saw concealed the body of Toa Nuroka. “Not like him. Not ever.”

“Oh. So he died.”

“He died the day he became a Toa.”

“And us?”

“I guess…we’re going to die soon, too. That’s what finding this power meant.”

Lesovikk had been searching for days, it seemed. Ever since he had become a water-breather, nothing had gone right for him. After all, nothing had ever gone right for him, especially after the death of his team. As he trudged through the pit, in search of anything that could assist him in his journey to again be an air-breather, he thought that he ought to have died with them.

He trudged through the water, each step yielding yet another cold wave of ice cold water. But he couldn't feel it- he was numbed beyond that. The lone Toa of air was about ready to give up for the day and rest, when, nestled against the peak of a rock formation, was it:

The mask of life.

Immediately bursting off, he tore through the water in the direction of the mask. Just as he reached it, however, it tore loose of its position and began falling. Unfortunately, it was falling right off of a cliff face- he would have to dive further for it.

And so he did.

Forming his body into an aerodynamic structure, he quickly descending faster than the Ignika. It was nearly in his finger tips, when out of nowhere, it was snatched by a tentacled being.

He stopped short, chasing the eight-tentacled beast into its cave. He pulled out his sword, even as they reached a dead end.

"That mask will be mine," he said with a mad passion, the cries of a desperate man.

He slashed and jabbed until the creature was mince meat, not letting up into he was sure it was dead, and then pulling it out of its cold, dead clutches. With a yell of triumph, he lifted the mask!...

...which was merely a rock carving, holding an egg inside.

He had found what he thought to be the power to save him. However, he had merely brought more death to the pit.

The vista shimmered and shifted in the relentless desert heat. Spreading low across the horizon was an incoming black cloud.

Only she knew it wasn't a cloud.

Toa Teor felt her knees trembling beneath her. They were coming. They were coming for her, and for the village behind her. Their relentless attacks had never ceased over the last few weeks. Their dead were heaped around the village, but they always came again. They came and they came and only when they were viciously repelled did they cease, only to return the next day.

Raw terror gripped her heart. What was a lone Toa of Water to do? The rest of her team had already been killed in the previous battles, and she was left all alone.

What if she failed? What if she couldn't stop them? True, they were fewer now, but there were still dozens of them. What if she couldn't do it, what if they reached the village?

She nearly buckled in the sweltering heat. What was she to do? She was now the only thing standing between those monsters and the Matoran.

And what if she failed?

She couldn't blot out that thought, the fear of abject failure. The Matoran were depending on her, they believed in her, and what would happen now? They were all about to die.

But no! She could still do this! Weak though she was, she was a brave, strong Toa, and surely if anyone could stop the incoming hoards, it was her!

She said this to herself over and over, the words becoming a monotonous drone. You can do this, you can do this. . . Each time the words lost some of their meaning until they became an empty buzz.

The Rahi weren't far off now. They would arrive in a few moments. Slowly she dragged her disagreeable legs forward, knowing that strategy demanded meeting them as far from the village as possible.

This time she did buckle, before forcing herself to rise again. Who was she fooling? She couldn't do this. She was going to die, and the Matoran with her. She had no real hope.

She froze, motionless, as the hoards began to converge upon her. Their gleaming fangs and slavering jaws loomed in on her vision, moving as if in slow motion. Her body felt like stone.

Would she even be able to move, she wondered? Would she just stand there as they passed her by, leaving the doomed village to its fate? Her mind ticked down to a standstill.

Then, tick by slow tick, the gears of her mind began to move again. They gained speed, and she knew what to do.

Without any real conscious thought, she charged forwards with a terrible war cry, raising her scythe and summoning what little water remained in the air. Two of the monsters were dead before they realized that she had actually attacked them. Soon the ground was strewn with their dead.

Teor didn't have time to think, she was in a constant state of action and reaction. Twice she narrowly avoided the giant claws, thrice the jaws.

But finally she found herself caught between massive incisors. It was then that she saw a great light in the sky, and the cries and the tears broke forth from her before she died.

He landed the wrong way when the rubble collapsed on him. His body slammed on the floor, whiplash from the fall knocking his mask somewhere into the dust. It was impossible to see anything beyond the debris, and his dazed condition made it even worse now. Pinned and winded, he lay limp on the concrete floor.

“What happened? Are you still there?” a panic laced voice screamed. The pinned victim clamped his eyes tightly shut, the stimuli too much for his weakened condition.

“Trapped...” the word moaned meekly from his mouth.

“I got clear! I’m going for help!” Footsteps scuffled as the owner of the voice ran off, leaving him alone. Coughing, he sagged under the slab of concrete that pinned him, its weight practically unbearable. There was something pressing- probably impaling- his shoulder and tears of pain dripped down his smudged face as he struggled to free himself.

Up above, he could hear the roof shake. The sound of rocks falling reached his ears from afar, and he shut his eyes, praying he would not die here. Fear of death made him squirm, wiggling only to feel the beam in his shoulder bury itself deeper. Gritting his teeth he abandoned all hope of comfort, and jerked his shoulder away. The pain was excruciating, and he felt the slab shift to another mighty pressure point on his body. A yell of agony rang from his lips.

He gasped heavily as dust entered his lungs. As he jerked from the episode, however, he realized that he could move his torso. Very little it was able to maneuver, but he could still shift a little. Opening his eyes, he could see the beam directly above him, and tried not to think of the end that was snapped off. Above that in the grey shaft of light, the concrete that pinned his legs slanted away.

He pushed on the beam, feeling the weight of the room working against him. His shoulder was on fire, but he shoved harder and harder against it, feeling it shift. Please don’t let anything fall on me, please don’t let anything fall on me... he silently begged. Using his weakened strength, he painfully pushed until he could no longer reach the wood.

There was a metal barb ahead of him, across the floor, some steel that had snapped in the collapse, and now jutted out. His fingers were teased as he reached for it, struggling for excruciating minutes until his hands wrapped around it. His strength was failing as he pulled, and he desperately wished for his mask. It was a useless power, but if he could focus... little did he know, however, was that his panic was propelling him more than any mask ever would.

There was something in his back that cracked as his legs were freed from under the slab. Maybe his spine was separated. He curled up and silently wept, as he felt all of his body parts still intact. Peering around after those few minutes of pain and relief at the same time, he looked for holes in the rubble to climb through.

A noise. His attention snapped to the ceiling, but it was no sound of rubble shifting. A voice was not far away.

“He got me free, but trapped himself in there, said he was pinned...”

He needed not to be called. Urgency flooded his broken body, giving one last surge of willpower, and he miraculously picked himself up. He was definitely broken. But the hole there just needed a little pry so he could wiggle through...

****

As a crowd gathered to see the collapsed building, he emerged. Disfigured and maskless, mangled in countless places and mangled, he stumbled out. Down the debris he tumbled as his body finally collapsed, but he needed not worry any longer, as he fell into the arms of a rescuer.

From barely enough words to make a story the first two days to cutting a bunch out on four and five. Wheee~

Member Name: Baltarc

Theme: Find the Power

Word Count: 748

Story: "Power Source"

Onua rose slowly, feeling the power of his mask flood his limbs as he pushed himself upright. The Pakari had always granted him strength far beyond the normal limits of any being, and even now it continued to do so. In fact, rather than being damaged in any way by… by whatever had just happened, it seemed to have grown in power, if that were possible – he felt as though he could lift the island itself as easily as any of the others could a pebble.

He called upon the power of the Miru—

He cleared his throat. The power of the Miru—

Nothing. So their little bath had destroyed his other masks? Quickly he reached out for his Akaku – nothing. Hau – nope. Kakama – still no. Kaukau? There wasn’t any way to test it here, but he expected the result would be the same.

He glanced down at himself for the first time. His form was bulkier, stronger, more powerful even than it had been before, which was certainly saying something. Sleek silver armor covered his body, accentuating every rippling muscle. He tapped the plating on his forearm softly – he doubted anything would be getting through that within the next millennium or three.

He examined the hand he’d just used. Minutes ago, powerful claws would have erupted from his fingers at a thought, but this, too, had changed. Simply a hand, he thought, flexing his fingers. How could he protect his koro without—

Slowly, instinctively, his hands drifted to his back and were greeted by cold, hard metal. He withdrew the weapons, examining them. Some kind of complex machinery – a long shaft fitted with a belt and dozens of sharp metal blades. Maybe he could…

The weapons roared to life, the blades dissolving into a blur and reappearing moments later as he mentally shut them off. Certainly these would be far more efficient at tunneling through the earth than his claws had been. And with practice, they would be deadly in combat.

He finally looked up, taking in the dark cavern. His fellow Toa were, like him, mesmerized by their new forms. Tahu had gotten his hands on some new blades, blades which were now engulfed in fire and whirling about in a flurry of flashy maneuvers. Pohatu was repeatedly vanishing and reappearing in another corner of the cavern before Onua could register he’d moved at all. Lewa, like Tahu, had been engrossed by his new weapons, a pair of swords that he was clearly more than eager to learn to use. Kopaka was simply leaning against a wall, looking on in disapproval – typical.

Gali had focused her attention on something else. She stood at the center of the cavern, gazing at an object that seemed to hover in the air. It was a cube, a cube carved with odd symbols and glowing with blue light. Onua made his way toward it cautiously, both apprehensive about the object before him and worried that Pohatu might not be watching where he was going and run him over.

Within a few moments the rest of the Toa had gathered. Lewa was the first to speak.

“So, uh… what’s the deal with the glow-bright cube-thing?”

No one had an answer. They stood in silence for a few moments before Kopaka extended his arm.

“Wait,” Tahu interjected. “We have no idea what—”

The Ice Toa silenced their leader with a glare as cold as his homeland and snapped his arm forward, his hand tapping the cube and then retreating to its place at his side.

A brilliant flash of light flooded the cavern and the Toa backed up as one, Lewa aiming his new blades at the cube. Tahu angled his for Kopaka, a curse on his lips. Ah, priorities.

A moment later the light had cleared, and, oddly, the cube seemed to be missing a side. A side, Onua realized suddenly, that Kopaka held in his hand.

“What—” Pohatu began.

Kopaka cut him off. “It’s cold,” he said, gazing at the square of stone. “Cold even to me. It houses power.” He looked up. “My power.”

Immediately Tahu stepped forward, touching the cube and claiming a piece as his own. The remaining Toa followed suit, Onua stepping forward last. Reluctantly, he grabbed the only side left. What Kopaka said was true – he could feel his own power emanating from the symbol in his hands. Should something like this really be removed from its proper place?

It pulsed slowly in the darkness, a rhythmic sigh of light that cast a pale green glow on the stone and dirt that surrounded it. Twenty thousand years had it pulsed, and twenty thousand more it was willing to, or twenty thousand after that.

A hammer swung out of the shadows and shattered it. A thousand fragments hung in the air, as though they were supported by the light that turned them to stars for that single instant, and then they clattered to the ground.

The hammer’s owner peered down into the remains of the spire, and a simple green keypad stared back up, its soft glow undeterred by the loss of its casing. “Show-off,” the jungle Agori muttered, and punched in a string of numbers that had not been used since the day his planet had turned to three.

Silently, ponderously, the back wall of the cave fell away, and beyond it he saw stacks of machines humming to themselves, carrying out the instructions of a bygone age. Vatomu stepped slowly inside, feeling all around him the energy of a peoples long lost.

At the far end of the passage, he found a dais of metal and stone, symbols and circuits etched into it and given life by the same green energy that danced all around him. He approached it silently, waiting for any sort of response.

One came.

The voice of the Great Being was soft and familiar, recorded long ago but somehow vibrant in a way that made him feel that if he turned he would see the creator before him, ceremonial robes and protosteel mask untouched by time or tempest.

If you have come this far, then I am long gone. I know not how, or when, but we have fallen.

The fact you gained entrance to this chamber is proof that you were a friend to us. I know not if you are Agori or Glatorian or Matoran or Toa, but you knew us.

I will not make false claims. The knowledge stored within here is powerful, but it is merely a fraction of what we learned. I ask that you take it, and build from it what you would.

Bring glory to your world.

A pedestal rose from the stone before him, a screen and keys sliding out from it.

Vatomu stood there a long time, his eyes closed, listening to the quiet buzz of the machines around him, breathing the air that had an edge to it that he hadn’t tasted in years. He thought of the voice that had spoken to him, of its owner, of choices he’d made and words they’d exchanged.

Smiling, he opened his eyes. “Was this your way of making amends, Telerus? Or was this what you wanted from the very beginning?”

There was no response. Sighing, he stepped forward to the controls and looked at them.

Then he raised the hammer high and brought it down, and again, and again, and when there was nothing left he turned to the still-crackling machines and continued his work, pounding and pounding until he felt certain the hammer would shatter, and when it finally did he reached into his pack and drew out another and turned to the next machine.

In time, there was a dying whirr, and the lights of the chamber faded away, leaving the Agori alone in the darkness. He stood there, panting; the tool slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

Shaking his head, he reached into his pack and pulled from it a torch doused in oil and a flint. A few strikes was all it took to illuminate the chamber once more. He smiled sadly at his handiwork. “Wherever you are now, you piece of dirt, I hope you can see this. And I hope it hurts you the way watching us die by the thousands never could.”

And then he turned and made for the surface. There was surviving to be done.

He stumbled into the chamber, falling to his knees at the entrance, overwhelmed by the power residing within. A light shone on him, and he looked at it almost in awe.

Before him on a pillar rested a golden Kanohi, the Ignika itself. Was it truly glowing, or was that merely the immense power flowing from it? It seemed to him that in another moment the power would overwhelm him, destroying the intruder of its sanctuary - but then it retreated into itself, merely resting before him. He could till sense its presence, but now it seemed...inviting? Hesitantly, the Toa reached out and touched it.

Instantly, his mind was flooded with images and sensations - so many, many memories of things now gone. Its creation, the tests of its power, all its experiences of the Great Beings and their doings around it - things alien, breathtaking to the Toa passed into his mind in an instant, up to the moment the mask had been left in its chamber. It showed him all its purpose and its power, and then stopped.

Then he felt a clear thought from it. Its purpose was to save the Toa's world. But it knew nothing of that world, and it was curious. In exchange for its memories, it wanted the Toa to share his own. Then it would accomplish its destiny and his.

Very well, he thought. A small enough price to pay for the life of the universe.

He opened up his memories. First came his days as a Matoran, in his little village surrounded by the wilderness. Tending the village herd of Mukau. Solitary walks in the forest. Friendly conversations in the square. Calm, peaceful memories filled with contentment and appreciation of the beauties of the world.

Then he was made a Toa, and things changed. His village did not need him, so he began traveling. Wandering, helping anyone he could, never settling down. He had begun to see more of the world then, but those were lonely memories, and he was glad they only spanned a few years.After that, he met Jovan, a Toa of Magnetism, and his team, and was invited to join them. Traveling and adventure as a group; protecting the Matoran and each other from all dangers; forging bonds that could never be broken. That filled a thousand years, and he showed it all - every joy, every fear, every sorrow- until he reached their present mission.

It was during the Civil War in Metru Nui that the world began changing. Plant life was dying, Rahi were decreasing and weakening. And then the stars began fading. Fear. Everyone afraid, afraid because the world is going wrong and they can't fix it. Even Jovan shows it.

And Jovan had decided to do something about it, researching, tracking down rumors, legends...anything their team could find. The team called together, told for the first time about the Ignika. Hope. Finally, something to be done to save the world.

Traveling to the site of the legend. Searching for any sort of clue - and then running into Axonn and Brutaka. Being told the whole, complete truth -being told one of the team would die.

The Toa relived all the battles and traps as they descended the stairs, every one. Finding the Chamber of Life. At last. At last the power that will save our world is found. But...which one of us will it take? Let it be me, don't let it be me let it be me don't let it be-

And then they felt the power, reaching out, evaluating them, and it settled on the Toa.

It's me.

The Toa left his memories, reaching the present. Is that enough, Kanohi Ignika? He asked. Are you satisfied with my world?

The mask was...intrigued. There was so much in his world, so much good and evil mixed, so much life. And he sensed it also found him intriguing. It had seen throughout his memories that he had a strong fear of death, and yet here he was asking to use it. He knew the consequences...

He flinched. Yes.It's because of my world. I love it too much to want to leave it, but I also love it too much to let it die. Dying is my best choice, but still a bad one. He paused. Does that satisfy you?

The mask decided that it did. The Toa was granted permission to use its power for his beloved world.

Nuparu turned the hand crank, which lifted up the mining elevator. He was the engineer stationed at the elevator, and as such it was his job to operate it by hand when the miners needed to get out of the Great Mine.

The elevator wasn’t a bad design: Nuparu had been one of the engineers who crafted the system of pulleys which would lift up the cab and get Matoran to different levels quickly. Unfortunately, it had to be powered by a Matoran. They had tried to use Ussal Crabs, but the Rahi were too inconsistent with their pulling, so the job was left to the engineer on duty.

Nuparu knew it was inefficient. If he could create some way to power the pulley system, then it would free him up to work on other useful tasks. But where could he find a power source reliable enough?

As the elevator reached his level, Nuparu let off the crank and secured it into position. The miners gratefully exited the cab. Nuparu leaned back to rest for a bit, nut then Onepu, Whenua’s right hand Matoran, walked up to him.

“Nuparu, I am reassigning you to the scouting team that’s leaving for Le-Wahi,” Onepu said.

“But they’re just going to collect fruit,” Nuparu said. “Why do you need me to go with them?” He had been hoping to get home and work on some of his inventions in his spare time.

“The tunnel on the way isn’t in the best shape, so your skills might come in handy if there are any issues with the rocks or the cart,” Onepu said. “Besides, we’ve called it a day for the miners, so you don’t need to work the elevator.”

Nuparu begrudgingly went to his new position, and before he knew it he was on an Ussal cart heading down a tunnel towards the jungle. Once they got there, the other Matoran insisted that he help pick berries.

He approached one tree to grab its bounty, when one of the Matoran stopped him. “Careful there,” he said. “That’s a Vuata Maca tree. Those pieces of Madu fruit are known to be explosive.”

“Explosive?” Nuparu asked. “Why are they like that?”

The Matoran shrugged. “No clue, but best to be wary around them.”

Despite the warning, Nuparu’s interested was piqued. In secret, he carefully collected some of the Madu fruit and brought them back with him. In his hut, he started experimenting with the fruit. Their explosiveness, he learned, was determined by their ripeness, so some were safer to pick than others. But the juices of the fruit contained a large amount of potential energy, and Nuparu wondered if he could harness it in ways other than explosions.

He began to fiddle with the fruit by inserting wires into the sides. Over time, he discovered that he could power simple machinery in his hut with the fruit, although only for a limited amount of time. He gathered more fruit and began building circuits, and soon his hut was full of Madu fruit that provided battery power to his many appliances.

But Nuparu wasn’t satisfied with just that alone; what if the Madu fruit could be used elsewhere, like in the Great Mines? He made his project official, and got approval from the Turaga to begin harvesting Madu fruit in bulk. Over time, he grew tired of the journeys to the surface to collect the fruit, so he collected seeds from the Vuata Maca tree and planted one underground, where he utilized lightstones to mimic sunlight.

It took months for the tree to start to grow, and it was another full year before it began to bear fruit. By then, Nuparu was reaching the limit with what he could power with just the fruit. It would not be enough to help in the mines. But as he watched the tree grow, he realized that the energy in the fruit was also within the tree itself.

And then, after two years of hard work and research, Nuparu managed to draw electric energy directly from the Vuata Maca tree. The energy was used to power all of Onu-Koro, including the elevators in the great mines. And soon, the other villages learned about the discovery, and they started planting Vuata Maca trees of their own.

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=#000000;]Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: July 4th, 11:59PM PST.[/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=#000000;]Note: The deadlines are now midnight PST (3am EST), giving you three more hours.[/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=#000000;]Edit: The Find the Power Polls have been posted! [/color][/font][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=#000000;]Still time to vote in the Character Story polls as well.[/color][/font]

On the way back to the city, he looked up to see it on fire. Sky blackened and sun dying from the smoke arising from the surface. As he ran into New Metru Nui, he saw chaos and destruction plaguing the streets. The Order of New Metru Nui had fallen, and now everyone that he knows is either dead or hiding.

The Wander is a Toa of Magnetism. He has no name, but people just call him a wanderer since that’s what he does. He runs towards the Coliseum to find the Turaga and Helryx. Helryx is the only thing that could be the reason of the collapse.

As he reaches the Turaga’s quarters, he finds the head of the Turaga on the floor, and Helryx being bashed by a horrific creature with a massive jaw, claws and blades on his arms. Just as he was about to slam her to the ground, he turns to see the Wanderer standing there at the doorway. His face was pale as snow and horrified by the destruction of the Order.

“So, you wish to take me on,” boasts the creature.

The creature then throws Helryx to the Wanderer. He falls to the ground with Helryx on top of him. She is badly bruised and broken in spirit.

“Go, before it’s too, late,” says Helryx trying to muster the last of her strength.

The Wanderer gets up, holding a dying Helyrx over his shoulder. He looks at the creature who has won the battle for now, but it is now the Wanderer who he shall face. He leaves the quarters to take Helryx to safety and to heal her wounds.

“Yes! Run! Shelter yourself for I, Botar, will certainly be you demise.”

It appears whoever brought back Botar from the dead, has him under their control. He has taken control of all of New Metru’s systems including the security forces. Botar then turned on the video screens on in all of New Metru. His savage face can be seen on screens all over the place.

“Citizens of New Metru! I have liberated you from the Order’s corrupted system, and made way for a new one to take over! One, where no one will restrict you on what to do!”

The criminals of New Metru began to cheer; their roars of glory can be heard throughout the city.

“Welcome, to the New Order.” He then turns of the screens and he looks behind him. Three figures with crimson and black armor with what appears to be bat wings, approach him.

“Go forth and bring me the head of Helryx,” orders Botar.

The three nod and the ceiling above them opens. They fly off into the burning sunset of New Metru to find Helryx. They leave with blood curdling screeches and trails of shadow can be seen from their wings. The ceiling then closes, and Botar is left standing in the room. He overlooks at his New Order that has now caused chaos and destruction.

It has been too long since he has been trapped in the Red Star. While wandering the land of the dead, someone had approached him. The mysterious figure had somehow managed to gain control him to do his bidding. Then Botar looked at a map of New Metru, and punctured a location on the map with a knife.

“You cannot hide from me Helryx. I will find you.”

The location, in which he punctured, is a furnace in the Fire District which is a known secret hideout of the old Order. His bat beings will soon assault the base and kill anyone in there.

The Toa stood in a row. They were the six the leader had chosen, along with six Matoran, six Vortixx, and six robots, two each made in the image of each group.

The Toa of Water gave a quick glade to the Toa of Fire to her left. He was trying to stop his friend of Air from falling onto his shoulder. Following him were Toa of Earth, Ice and Stone. The Matoran were organised in the same pattern, and the Vortixx in height order.

Their captor had their face shrouded in a thick veil, and a Vortixx wondered if they could see out of it. She raised a hand and stepped forward. "Yo."

"What?" snapped the decidedly female figure. "And get back in line, or I'll have to mutate you."

"The name's Valda," she continued, folding her arms. "What are we even here for?"

The veiled woman clicked her fingers. A Boggarak scuttled to her heel. "Are you sure you want to find out?"

Valda shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

She grinned as the person now ordering the Visorak in their language shook with anger. When pincers poked her back, however, her face fell into a state of shock.

"Take them," she heard the woman hiss in something that only just sounded like Matoran before she was swept away.

00110010 00110100

A flickering light told Valda that she was now awake. The veiled woman was now gone, but was replaced by protosteel shackles and a small, grey character who looked a little like a Matoran. The four groups of six were sat next to the wall on a stone bench.

"Oh, my!" they exclaimed, clapping their hands. "Friends!"

The Toa of Stone raised an eyebrow. "Friends? I do believe that is an incorrect term."

The Matoran (Was it a Matoran? Something seemed off about it.) frowned. "You don't have to be my friend," it pouted. "It may be optional, but I highly recommend it."

"I'll pass."

"Are you sure?"

With a quick glance at Valda, he replied, "Sure, why not?"

The echo of a Vortixx were his last words.

The Matoran looked up to see what would be the veiled woman, but she had removed it to show a grubby blue Komau. "Great, Flute!" it grinned. "I wish he had come to his senses, though."

"That'd be unlikely," she replied cooly. "Toa of Stone are as dense as their element. Let this serve as a warning to the rest of them to not speak out."

The Toa of Earth looked at his friend's corpse in shock, before moving to remove his mask.

"Uh, uh!" the Matoran said. "We're playing a game now. The rules are that you have to play it, and I choose the rules! Another rule is that you can't touch a dead player."

He stood suddenly, pulling the other Toa into awkward positions. "What am I able to remember him by, then?"

The Matoran tutted. "Another rule is that if they die, then they never existed."

As it was, the Toa of Stone's shackles were now empty. His brother slumped back down onto the bench. "I'll be your friend."

Valda watched him intently, quashing the desire to comfort that lost her many jobs.

"Hey, Vortixx!" grinned the Matoran suddenly. "What's your name?"

Valda looked up, but he was addressing the short male on the other side of the row. He looked into the Matoran's eyes, and Valda realised suddenly that they were black pits. She made a mental note to never look at them again when her fellow Vortixx stopped speaking.

"Is he dead?" asked the Ta-Matoran. The six Matoran had been silent, along with the robots. Now that they were being stared at, they fidgeted uncomfortably, and the Po-Matoran burst into tears.

"This is a happy place," it smiled widely. "You can't cry here." As the wails intensified, the Matoran's eyes narrowed. "Stop it. Stop crying now. I don't want to kill you. Actually, maybe I should. but then I'd have to kill that Vortixx and one of the robots."

Rimoto decided to stop talking to catch his breath, an act that his partner, Forr, also thought appropriate.

“Holy Mata Nui. This Turaga must be a glutton…what kind of food order requires two crates, and ones of this size? What even is in these?”

“Well, my dear Forr, you’re better off not peeking. You know how Greva is, always peeking around and sticking her eyes in other’s business with her creepy mask. I don’t want to have to be reprimanded because you were ogling the Turaga’s berries.”

“Hey now, these are way too heavy to be berries.”

“Anyway, you know it’s an order to not look into the order. It’s a secret. A secret secret.”

“That is the best kind of secret, I think. Also preferably the only one…”

“What kind of stupid rules are these, though? Deliver the food in thirty minutes or the negotiations are off? I get that we’re in a tense situation with that village, but this just seems excessively inane.”

“And why did we have to be the ones to go?”

“It might be because we’re so annoying.”

“Maybe. But that seems really risky. We waste so much time, we may not get it done at all!”

“That’s…unlikely. It’s a very safe road and we aren’t that terrible. There really isn’t any way to mess this up.”

“Yeah, but really…why us?”

”Greva is too busy to waste her time like this…though I worry about sending two thirds of the village’s defenses away on such a random mission.”

“What two thirds? That would be Greva.”

“Ha ha. I suppose…”

They reached their destination soon afterwards. Looming before them was a massive, ornate fortress carved of pitch-black rock.

“That…that is a really big house for a Turaga.”

“No joke. Not to mention dark and ominous.”

“Maybe he’s in a bad mood (because of the hunger) and redecorated to match.”

“…Yeah. That is definitely the most likely explanation.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

“Either way, how do we get in here?”

“Try knocking.”

“…yeah, okay.”

A shaken-looking Turaga answered the door, though, at seeing the two Toa, his expression brightened.

“Oh! The order has finally arrived. I was lucky. A few more minutes and I would have been in trouble. But by all means, come in, come in.”

“Uh, greetings, wise elder. We don’t mean to intrude. We’re just here to deliver the order. We’ll be leaving, if that’s all.”

It was another sunny day in the Po-Koro market, and Ahkmou stood at his stand, where he sold Comet Kohlii balls. They were currently the biggest hit in the village, because they were the best boulders to use in the stadium.

But the good news about his sales was countered by the epidemic, which was spreading across the village. Matoran were falling ill, and nobody knew the cause.

Nobody except for Ahkmou, and the news pleased him.

“Weaken Po-Koro’s defenses,” the Shadows had said to him. “Make it so I can take the village. That is an order.”

Ahkmou had allied with the Shadows long ago, due to his dislike of the Turaga and Matoran on Mata Nui. He had joined their civilization, but secretly plotted against them. He had waited years to finally take Turaga Onewa and the other Po-Matoran down a notch. And he had finally received his order.

But while the Shadows desired a particular outcome, they were willing to let Ahkmou select the method. He had chosen to infect his fellow villagers with the Madness. With help from the Shadows, he had crafted the perfect Kohlii ball, which was balanced and lightweight. But the boulders were also tainted, due to them having been recovered from a Nui-Jaga’s nest. After using them for a period of time, a Matoran would fall ill, and then the Madness would set in.

Already, members of the Po-Matoran guard were dropping like flies. Kohlii was such a popular sport that all the Po-Matoran played it, and now almost all of them had a Comet. Soon, they would all be too sick to properly defend the village.

Ahkmou daydreamed of the near future, when his plans would come to completion. The affected Matoran would fall into Madness, one by one, and be no better than the infected Rahi who wandered the deserts. Some, like Turaga Onewa, would persist. He couldn’t sell a Comet to everybody, after all. He had even tried to pass one off to a Ta-Matoran wanderer, but the traveler had passed it up.

But those who stayed sane wouldn’t be safe from Ahkmou’s vengeance. When the time was right, the Shadows would send the infected Rahi to attack the desert village, and with so few defenders left, Po-Koro would fall. Ahkmou had been told that the Rahi would spare him, and he relished the thought of watching a Nui-Jaga take down the tyrannical Turaga Onewa.

And then he would be the last of the Po-Matoran. And he could begin plotting against the other villages in earnest. He already had ideas for how to destroy them, from flooding the tunnels of Onu-Koro to burning down the trees of Le-Koro. But before he could begin to get his revenge on all the Matoran on Mata-Nui, he would need to deliver Po-Koro to his master’s hands. That is what he had been ordered to do.

The merchants around him started talking excitedly, shaking Ahkmou out of his daydreams. He overheard their discussion, and doubt quickly began to gnaw at him. The Ta-Matoran traveler, known as the Chronicler, had been seen heading for the Quarry, with a key in hand. Furthermore, Toa Pohatu had raced off after him, and rumor was that they had discovered the source of the epidemic.

The Nui-Jaga nest where Ahkmou had collected the Kohlii balls was located in the Quarry, so that news was enough to make him nervous. But he had locked away the nest, so it was unlikely to be discovered. Yet as Ahkmou searched for his key, he realized that it was missing.

Ahkmou retreated from his stand and searched his hut, but the key was not among his possessions. He was returning to the market when he happened to spot Turaga Onewa and two Ta-Matoran guards at his stand. That was the last straw; he now knew that his plan had been discovered. He didn’t know what had given it away, but now he had more important things to worry about. He needed to flee before the Turaga could apprehend him.

His thoughts lingered on the Shadows, who had given him a direct order. But he had followed that, Ahkmou thought as he raced for the village’s gate. He had weakened the village’s defenses. He had followed his orders. Things had not gone exactly as planned, but he had tried his best.

Hopefully the Shadows would be merciful to him as he retreated out into the desert.

The Le-Matoran watched as the grinning Vortixx and the stoic Ta-Toa clashed in combat. The Matoran knew his fate lay in the outcome of this battle, yet all he could do was hope and pray. His hands tightly clutched the stone that had caused this predicament.

“I will gave you one last chance,” the Toa stated to the Vortixx, his voice noble and regal, “Back away from the Matoran and never speak of this encounter, otherwise I have no choice but to end you.”

“Hah,” The Vortixx merely laughed in response, “We issuing threats now? What happened to the ridiculous motto of Toa don’t kill, or are you guys above that stuff now? Then again, I always did find that policy idiotic.”

Even as he bantered, the battle continued to rage on: The Vortixx would leap in, his daggers locking with the Toa’s sword, the Toa would then try an elemental attack and the Vortixx would leap back. Eventually the Toa realized that the Vortixx was too fast for his elemental attacks and began focusing on weapon combat.

“Do not speak of that which you cannot comprehend,” The Toa retorted back, as his blade blocked another attack from the Vortixx’s daggers. “Our outdated code restrained us from properly carrying out justice and ensuring order.”

The Toa then stepped back, twisting his body away to allow his blade to swing towards the Vortixx’s side. The Vortixx, with only a moment to respond, swiftly pivoted on his foot, narrowly avoiding the attack.

“What a load of Muaka dung,” the Vortixx responded as he darted in, his daggers aimed at the Toa’s stomach, only to be parried once more when the Toa slammed his massive sword into the ground. Then, taking advantage of the lull in the Vortixx’s assault the Toa smashed a gauntleted fist into the Vortixx’s jaw.

Rolling away, the Vortixx spat out some blood and readied his daggers while the Toa ripped his sword from the ground. “Alright Toa,” the Vortixx snarled, “You want me to speak about what I can comprehend? Fine. What I comprehend is that your sense of Justice and Order can go to Karz.” The Vortixx stated before dashing in once more.

At first it appeared his daggers were again aimed at the Toa’s gut, but when the Toa’s sword came down to intercept, the Vortixx sidestepped, swinging his daggers to the side of the Toa’s chest. Unfortunately the Toa and his Calix were faster, allowing him to masterfully swing around, rip his sword out and block the daggers.

Their blades locked once more, the Vortixx continued speaking his mind. “What sort of Order requires you to kill a Matoran?” He demanded. “All I see is a bully afraid of the power that Matoran may acquire, you’re scared of a new Toa.”

However, the Toa would have none of it and flames erupted from his blade to send the Vortixx flying back. The Vortixx collided with a tree next to the Le-Matoran with a sickening thud. He struggled to get up, but found only the Toa’s blade at his throat.

“You understand nothing!” There was rage in the usually stoic Toa’s voice. “We do this because we must, a new Toa would upset the balance of power, order needs to be established. Without it the entire land would be plunged into chaos. How can you not see that this is our Duty?”

The Vortixx only laughed bitterly, “Don’t feed me that nonsense. There’s no justification for the murder, no, genocide you commit upon your own people.”

“Then this is your end.” The Toa responded as he hefted his blade in the sky before bringing it crashing down towards the Vortixx’s neck.

“STOP IT!” A new voice begged in desperation, it was the voice of the Le-Matoran. “Kill me, but please let him go. He’s only protecting me, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“I cannot do that,” the Toa began to reply only to be taken by surprise when the Vortixx seized the opportunity and tackled him.

“Run kid!” He yelled before being skewered by the Toa’s blade.

“Fool,” the Toa grimaced as he began to make his way towards the Matoran, never noticing the barely standing figure of the Vortixx.

“Hey mate,” the Vortixx coughed out as he hefted one last throwing dagger, “I’ll see you in karz.”

His dagger flew straight and true towards the Toa’s heart causing both beings to collapse.

But before them was a different order, and before them was an even older order.

Artahka's Hand. This is the story of an Order before all others...

-------

Helryx rose her shield, blocking a strike from the sword of a Dark Hunter. She quickly struck back with her mace, sending the opponent over the edge and into the water. It was raining wickedly. His head went under and never came back up. But that wasn't Helryx's problem- she spun around and kicked out a Hunter's legs, sending him skidding across the wooden deck of the Hand's ship. As Hydraxon finished off a Hunter of his own, she slid down to her prey and grabbed ahold of his head. At first, he thought she was going to kill him. But no, he was too useful for that. She activated her mask, and instantly saw the inside of the ship he had come on. She looked up, nodded to Hydraxon, and saw him- The Shadowed One -standing there on the deck of the opposing ship.

"Helmsman! Ram that ship!"

The Matoran at the controls turned their vessel, ramming the entire thing into the starboard side of the Hunter's ship, creating cracks all through. Helryx, using the connection, leaped across, followed by Hydraxon.

The two pointed their weapons at The Shadowed One, securing themselves against the railing.

"You are under arrest by the authority of Artahka," Helryx called out.

The large being laughed, and this laugh was the last thing Hydraxon saw. He was tossed into the water, sinking quicker and quicker. Helryx never saw him again after that. The Toa of water and the leader of the Dark Hunters clashed weapons, each formidable and strong. She blocked strikes with her shield, but he simply redirected the mace blows with his staff. Even then, Hand members were streaming over and fighting off Hunters as their leaders fought. But Helryx was downed in a few seconds, not by her opponent's blade, but by a Hunter from behind, slashing at her back. She fell, head hitting the ground with a loud noise. The Shadowed One stood over her, ready to kill.

"You are declared dead, by the authority of-"

PSSHHHHHHH

A nova blast destroyed both boats instantly. Everyone was dead, it seemed, save for Helryx, who had forced the water away from herself, and the Shadowed One, whose method of survival was never clear.

As the most powerful member of my Order, along with being one of the most experienced warriors and leaders among us, I was chosen as Head of the Order. I oversee all the doings of the Order around the globe of Spherus Magna, as well as being the personal guardian of New Atero.

The Order also includes those who recently joined our ranks of elemental guardian warriors, the Glatorian, whose experience with their newfound powers does not yet match many of our own, though they are learning quickly. The one called Ackar is a trusted advisor of mine, while the exploits of Gresh have been most noble. Together we merged the Toa with the Glatorian into a single unit, the Glatoarian Order.

I stand watch over New Atero and the entirety of the United Cities of Spherus Magna as the foremost guardian. During all my time here, the reign of peace has remained seldom unbroken. Very rare were the circumstances under which I was forced to exercise my Makuta-level of power.

That is, until now.

It all started when, after a century or two of peace, our imaginations turned to the stars. The peoples of our planet had solidified themselves into one united civilization, and we thought that if we could extend our reach to the stars, why not?

So we invented machines and other devices that could transport us through the vacuums of space. Why, the Kanoka Disks of Interstellar Travel were a marvelous invention by our own Toa Nuparu, and from these we were able to forge Masks of Power with the same capabilities.

It was soon after this that we discovered: We are not alone. Even within our limited reach were other civilized worlds capable of interstellar travel. This fact didn't perturb us at first, because we were quite confident by this time of our united strength and power.

Oh, were we so proud. . . Fools, we were. Fools!

Our ignorance is destroying us. Our First Contacts were nothing if not diplomatic and friendly, but as destiny would have it, the first race to which we extended the hand of peace spat in our face and prepared for war.

They invaded us swiftly and decisively, without warning of any kind. Powerful as we were, these invaders brought powerful machines of their own. Complex, incredibly advanced technologies that made many of our own look like mere toys.

I cannot describe to you the black anger that consumed my proud heart when I witnessed their preemptive and unprovocated strike, which brought much death and destruction. After the death of Teridax, so long ago, I had not suspected that we would ever come across beings not only as vile, but just as powerful. I suppose the long years of peace had dulled my imagination.

In response I marshaled our own forces and fought back in a terrific battle. In our pride we still thought that victory would be assured. What fools we were. . . We were decimated. The memory still brings me great pain. I alone survived that day, and not because I was trying to.

From there I returned to Spherus Magna and did what I could to strengthen our defenses, even during the chaos of invasion. I was forced to watch as the Order crumbled around me. Toa were slain by the thousands, and the Glatorian by the tens of thousands.

From then on our pride was shattered and we strove in desperate fear to repel the invaders. New Atero was destroyed and much of the Order forced into hiding. We have been a Rebellion ever since, striking on occasion and simply trying to help our people survive.

The invaders have not destroyed our people, but rule over them as dictators. They remind me so of Teridax. But I swear, by all my power, that even if it means my death, I WILL see Spherus Magna free again. Mata Nui, I know I promised you rest, but the power of the Mask of Life must be called into action once again if we are to survive.

My name is Toa Tahu, and I watch in agony as my beloved Order crumbles around me.

Two axes rested on a table, one beside the other. To the right was a respectable looking round shield, and to the left a zamour sphere launcher. These were the weapons and defences of Mal and Sordak, two members of the Order, who sat just in front of the table.

Behind the table was an empty chair, hard and straight backed so as not to provide any incentive to slouch. The chair was empty, as it was not yet time for its owner to enter the room; she had said that she would enter at a quarter after, and she was not one to go back on her word. It wasn't a matter of the immorality of lying; this Toa was not faint hearted, nor was she moral without reason; it was the simple fact that a lie can cause havoc, confusion, and disorder - likely the worst facets of existence, in her opinion.

At precisely one quarter past, the Sordak and Mal were not in the least surprised to see Helryx; they were, however, extremely disappointed that they had not been able to arrange their weapons and defenses in a proper manner before her entry. Now it was their duty to themselves to pray to the one they were sworn to serve that Helryx was in a good mood. They hastily did so as they rose in perfect, practiced unison to welcome their leader.

The Toa of Water flowed smoothly around the desk, and sat in her chair, relishing the structure that it leant to her back. Just as her mind began to obey her commands to order, her eyes fell upon the horrid pile of vile weaponry that scarred her desk.

She rose at once, though still maintaining her air of discipline. Immediately the two orderlies of the Order followed suite, each wondering why the Toa before them was of water, which was surely a very disorderly yet calm element, and not at all suited to her personality. Soon, however, they came to understand that no element could be quite as ferocious as water, and as such perhaps it was the perfect element for her personality.

Shortly thereafter they found themselves in the briefing hall, awaiting their leader. Whispered conversations were hushed as the doors parted, and in walked Helryx, with a cold air that would put of Toa of Ice to shame.

“Today I feel it important to share with you the importance of law and order; from the simple task of aligning one’s equipment to the care of a land, our organization has sworn to bring order to the chaos that creeps throughout the lands, threatening the Great Spirit Mata Nui.” Her eyes swept the crowd as she spoke, and every member with any sense cowered beneath her gaze.

“In order that we carry out our duties, we must be inwardly organized. This begins with your lifestyle and discipline, which allow us to enforce important routines, bringing us together into a strong agency, with its feet planted firmly in the ground, rooted against the winds of change. Without structure we are useless at our jobs; we would have failed at every victory, been reduced to scattered vagabonds. One way to organize one’s life would, for example, be to respect authority and align axes in a perpendicular fashion...” soon her words were drowned out in a sea of thoughts.

Every member of the Order secretly cursed those two orderlies, who surely must have been the root cause of this wearisome lecture; now they could expect for rules to be upheld with more vehemence than ever! And to say nothing of their leader’s mood.

0

"Baby, in the final analyses, love is power. That's where the power's at."

My Tumblr, for those interested in astronomy, physics, and other stuff.

Nui-Kao: the Great Tree, its topmost branches reaching to heights in the sky no Le-Koro treehouse could dream of. There was no bigger tree in all Mata Nui, none even came close. The canopied roof of the jungle spread out far below, like a sea of green, disheveled and wrinkled, rippling in the whistling winds. In odd places a family of colorful Kewa or playful Brakas breached.

[font="arial;"]That was my home. The most Mangaian abysses of the jungle, where no Matoran foot had ever dared to tread. I only ever shared it with the trees, the Rahi, the wind and the rain--and Hahli.[/font]

[font="arial;"]My companion and I sat alone on the highest branch of the Nui-Kao; it was our private cloud, floating us over the vivid colors of the sea below.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"You know the sea, Hahli," I said. "I know the jungle. But they're not that different. Look out over the ocean and you'll see dangerous enigmas and inconceivable wonders. It seems like chaos, but when you get closer, you realize it's nothing but an order you don't fully understand.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"I am the jungle. I feel every tree, every stone, every Rahi; all speak to me, and form a unity that I can't describe. I know the whisper of the wind through every tree in this jungle, I've seen the sunset on every leaf, I've smelled every flower, growing between the lowest roots in winter, or blossoming in the springtime sun above the highest stem in all the jungle. It's all different, it's all unique, and none of it's ever the same. But somehow, every day it all blends together to make a new order that I've never seen before.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"The rain comes, and waters the jungle; new plants grow; Rahi eat the plants; Rahi die; the plants and earth absorb their bodies; the plants dry up, and the water returns to the sky, where it's taken away until the next rain comes. The only jungle law is that everything must go on. It's not even about survival. It's about the survival of the whole jungle.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"It's life. And death. Plants die, Rahi die, only to be reborn, or replaced. Someday, I'll die. I'll be replaced. There must always be balance. The jungle is balance, and it's chaos. It's light and dark, good and evil, joy and woe, hope and despair, strength and weakness. It's awe-inspiring, and at the same time it's pathetic. It's planned to every finest detail, it's just--just everything, Hahli--but--but it's not--"[/font]

[font="arial;"]I shook my head. "It's just always been there, to me. It was all I had ever known, nothing particularly special; but then you came here, and saw it with fresh eyes. I showed you the beauty of the way it all comes together in one perfect, eternally perfect order. And suddenly, I could see it, too. You made me see that."[/font]

[font="arial;"]Soon the sun began to set. This was the most magical time of all, and it was always Hahli's favorite. The sun would disappear; the gilden greens would fade into bronzes and blacks; the jungle’s bird-chorus would sing a lullaby so sweet, so perfect, it would take Hahli’s breath away; and then she would lean on me, sighing contentedly, and I would wrap my arm around her.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"Nothing," I said, as the last sunlight died, "nothing ever made me as happy as the moments when we would sit here like this.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"It's beautiful today. I've never seen it prettier. I only wish you could be here to see it too, Hahli . . ."[/font]

[font="arial;"]My companion let out a screech, chittered throatily, and brakiated away down amidst the branches. I watched the Brakas until it disappeared, then turned my deformed face north-eastward, casting my mind toward Ga-Koro.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"I wish I could see it. No--I wish I could see you. Hahli--without you this jungle, all this glorious beauty--has become nothing. It's lost the magic you showed me it had. I can't see it anymore! It's lost any meaning--even the order I once reveled in, taking it for granted, is gone. No matter how hard I look, it doesn't make any sense any more. Nothing--nothing makes sense anymore."[/font]

[font="arial;"]I raised my face to the stars. I loved seeing them best; they reminded me of the twinkle in her eyes.[/font]

[font="arial;"]"Without, you, Hahli, the jungle is a troubled sea of confusion and chaos. And . . . I am the jungle."[/font]

0

When I know I can't live without a pen and paper, when I know writing is as necessary to me as breathing . . .

Man, most of the people in this universe don’t even think he exists. Spirit knows how bad I wish they were right. Dude has an insane superiority complex; thinks he can boss us around, do whatever he wants, just because the Great Beings made him out to be some kind of god-figure. Which, by the way, he’s not. OOOOOOH, look at me, I’m Artakha! I can use telepathy that’s a little bit stronger than anybody else’s! I can teleport anywhere, not just to places I can see!

Yeah, sure, he builds cool stuff. Seriously, though, who cares? Give me a mask that shows me exactly how to make whatever I want and I’ll do the same thing! So basically his powers are being a little bit better at reading minds and at getting places than most people are, and he can wear a mask. Amazing.

Seriously, this guy is infuriating to work for. Like— Okay, I could rant on and on about this, but I’ll just give you an example: the crystal serpents. Ol’ Arty thinks he can make rahi all by himself. Guess what, he can’t. Creates these giant crystal snakes that kill anything that moves with some heat ray thing. But of course he’s too conceited to admit he failed and decides to – instead of killing ‘em off before they murder anyone else – release the things into the wild where they can laser anybody they like! And since he’s too busy designing (read: copying a design from his mask of) some upgraded kanohi thing, he tells me to take them out and set them free.

And then, a couple centuries later, when he’s getting worried that “Northie” (as he calls the one that lives on the north coast of the island) is sick or something because there haven’t been any reports of laser-induced death from the north in a while, guess what he does? He figures that I should go check on him, since I was so good at not getting melted by heat rays the first time he had me deal with them.

Yeah, so, after the thing ambushed me and lasered my left arm off is when I called it quits. Just triggered my Kualsi – what do you know, I can teleport too – and landed behind the thing and crushed its head in with my warhammer before it had any idea where I’d gone.

Stole a boat, ditched the island, blah blah blah. Got the Ghosts to build me a new arm – those guys are so much better than Artakha, seriously, their craftsmanship is almost as good and they’re actually reasonable, imagine that. Settled down in the Southern Islands, found people there who actually appreciated my skills and whatnot. Started up a good business building stuff that a mask didn’t churn out the blueprints for.

‘Cept then yesterday some guy in a Sanok comes knocking on my door and tries to put a dagger through my heart. Artakha’s behind this somehow, that piraka. No way to prove it, of course, but… Spirit. Met up with one of my old contacts, a merchant with his ear to the ground. Says the guy after me’s with the Order. I know Arty had some dealings with them a while back, but why he wouldn’t have just gone with the Hunters if he wanted me gone is beyond me…

“We have our orders, Krika. Teridax specifically asked us to execute Miserix. And you know how much Teridax hates being disobeyed.”

For the first time, Krika didn't see holes in Spiriah's logic. Teridax, newly elected leader of the Brotherhood, wasted no time in executing his Plan. Of course, he was bound to assign a few Makuta to perform The Order. The Order, as any organization knows, is the execution of a deposed leader.

And so Krika found himself with Spiriah, a Makuta who would better have served as a Matoran, weak and cowering. Their escort was Makuta Miserix, former leader of the Brotherhood of Makuta, currently a shackled denizen of the Fortress's dungeon.

“Look, Spiriah. I agree, Teridax would vaporize us on sight if we let Miserix go. But if you have any sense in yourself, you'll know that Miserix was right: Teridax's plan could destroy the universe. I don't want to kill our former, and in my opinion better, leader.”

“Could, not will. It's a mere word, but it makes all the difference, Krika. His Plan aside, we've already established he will kill us if we let Miserix off. And not just kill, he'll...well, you know.” As if to punctuate the point, Spiriah mock-slit his throat. “I'd rather not let that happen.”

“Spiriah, I...” Krika paused, reorganizing his thoughts. “I was thinking we'd 'dispose' of him, but not actually kill him. Say we hid him somewhere far away. I mean, it would technically dispose of him.”

Spiriah huffed. Arrogant as ever. Shame he didn't have anything to back it. “Krika, I think you're too attached to Miserix. Say Teridax found that out, what would he do? Maybe you're a detriment to the Plan? He wouldn't like that...”

Krika figured out this was going nowhere. “Don't dare doubt my loyalty to Teridax. While his Plan may be suicidal, his intellect is not. We'll discuss this tomorrow.”

The meeting of two adjourned.

--------

In the dark of night, as every Makuta either slumbered in their quarters or concocted in their labs, Krika stole to the dungeon. Once inside, he moved straight to Miserix's cell.

The sight that met him wasn't pretty. Draining cuffs sap the wearer of their powers, and Miserix was no exception. He was bound with a pair around his wrists. The former leader was sitting with his head down, no doubt aware of Krika's presence.

“Miserix, it's time to go.”

“Well, if it isn't my personal executioner. Weren't there two of you? Or did Spiriah's incompetence get him kicked from this most important of honors?”

“Miserix, it's time to go.” Krika repeated himself.

The former leader, under the impression that this was truly the end, went into a passive state. He let Krika guide him out of the dungeon and to the execution site.

Then Krika did something no one would have expected: he shattered Miserix's shackles. Miserix, taken aback by this sudden action, said the word most appropriate for the situation.

“Why?”

“Hurry up and turn into a dragon. Fly us to this island.” Krika pointed to a map, lit only by a small flashlight he'd brought along. Miserix complied, and in less than a minute they were on their way.

“I repeat, why? I understand you're the most reasonable of those fools that dare call themselves Makuta of the Brotherhood, but the answer still escapes me.”

“It's simple, Miserix: you're a leader I would follow, not Teridax. We're going to a volcanic island, where you will be chained with draining cuffs. Rahi will stand guard, and you will be a prisoner yet again.”

“So you're simply moving me from one prison to another?”

“Miserix, this isn't a prison, it's a test. Someday, when you're powerful, you'll break out of your chains to take back the Brotherhood. And besides, we both know your rage requires culling. This isn't the right time for a rebellion.”

Miserix sighed, then nodded. “Krika, sometimes I wonder why I didn't make you my lieutenant.”

--------

“Well? Where's Miserix?” Spiriah was furious. This was the execution deadline, and a missing Miserix meant absolute death.

“I killed him, Spiriah. He's dead. I didn't want to waste my day setting up the equipment and all. Our work is over. Report that to Teridax.”

Vakama sighed, looking out over the island below him. He stood high on the slopes of the Mangai Volcano.It was from here he had first planned Ta-Koro, a fortress amid the lava. Now he saw the bustle of working Ta-Matoran, and the slowly forming outlines of walls.He smiled for a moment at their work. But then another picture rose up before his eyes - Ta-Metru, glowing not with flowing lava but the controlled fires of the forges, with the Great Furnace and the massive protodermis plants - and he sighed, leaning more heavily on his staff."Mata Nui," he whispered. "Why did this have to happen?"Three months ago, I was a Matoran. We had Metru Nui - we were a people of crafters, scholars, scientists. Dume was the Turaga and the Mangai were our Toa. Life was right. It was the proper order of things.And then it was all destroyed. The Mangai are dead, the Turaga has left us, our city is a heap of rubble we cannot return to. Everything and everyone that defined our way of life are gone!Now look at us. We six are the Turaga. Our friends and co-workers - our superiors, some of them - look up to us as the wise ones, the guides. I went from a maskmaker to an elder with his prime behind him in less than a month.There are no Toa at all here now, no protectors. We are alone and undefended.And we who once belonged to a great city are nowtrying to carve out a living in a savage wilderness. The Matoran of Metru Nui are degenerated into malformed farmers and miners and trappers!He stared at the island below with angry eyes, seeing only the glories of Metru Nui. "Why, Mata Nui?" he said between clenched teeth. "WHY?""Turaga!" a cheerful voice called from below, interrupting his black thoughts.He looked down again. Directly below him was a small red-and-yellow figure, with a distinctive light-blue Pakari.Of course. Vakama rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Do you have an actual reason to be here, Takua, or were you just looking for an excuse to avoid work?""Umm...a little of both?" Takua glanced away. "Jala wanted to ask you something about construction...""So you took off up here without bothering to check if he actually wanted you to ask me?""It's just so...boring lugging rocks, Turaga!" He paused. "But how did you know?""Because I'm your Turaga." Because I've known you for fifty-nine thousand years. He supposed that was one advantage. He knew every inhabitant of Ta-Koro, if only slightly."Should I assume you also neglected to find out what exactly Jala's question was?" Vakama shook his head, but couldn't help smiling. "Never mind, I should go back down anyway. Just try to stick to your work after this."He nodded soberly. "I'll try, Turaga."Vakama lingered a moment, wondering what to do about Takua. He did mean well, but it was too much to hope his work ethic would improve now. How would Turaga Dume have handled him? he wondered. By siccing the Nuurakh on him andshutting down his mind,his brain replied.He realized suddenly how grateful he was that this island had no Vahki. Surrender or Run seemed better suited to Makuta than to the leader of the Matoran.He supposed Dume had seen no other way to keep the thousand Matoran under him orderly and efficient. And it wasn't as if he had had any personal exposure to the Vahki's enforcement techniques.But here, Vakama thought, maybe here, we can all work together.Maybe he'd been too caught up in nostalgic memories of Metru Nui to realize the bright sides of their new life.Maybe he needed an unbiased perspective.He turned back to Takua. "Takua," he asked, "what do you think of the island?"His face lit up. "It's amazing!" he said enthusiastically. "Actually, it's probably too amazing - I just want to explore all the time." And he grinned at his Turaga in a way he never would have dared to with Dume.Vakama smiled, looking out again. Now he saw beauty as well as wildness.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new,And God fulfills himself in many ways,Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: July 6th, 11:59PM PST.[/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Note: The deadlines are now midnight PST (3am EST), giving you three more hours.[/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Also: The Order Polls have been posted! [/color][/font][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Still time to vote in The Mask polls, as well as enter the Glass theme.[/color][/font]